He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The early spring wind carried a chill, yet it softened the frozen ground outside Baoding. Xu Xiuli sat on the back of a Flying Pigeon bicycle, her arms gently wrapped around He Yuyang's waist, the faint scent of soap emanating from his military uniform filling her nostrils. The bicycle bell jingled as it rolled over the remaining snow on the cobblestone path towards the military-affiliated primary school—today was her first day of work.

"Don't be nervous. You teach so well, the children will definitely like you." He Yuyang slowed down the car and could feel the person in the back seat nodding slightly. Before setting off, Xu Xiuli braided her hair three times in front of the mirror, her blue cotton jacket collar was tied meticulously, and she clutched the letter of recommendation written by the principal tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white. She always said that she "had never seen a big scene," but He Yuyang knew that when she stood on the podium, her eyes shone brightly.

The military-affiliated primary school was tucked behind a row of poplar trees, a small courtyard enclosed by a red brick wall, from which the sound of students reading aloud could be heard. The principal, an elderly teacher with graying hair, smiled broadly as he accepted the letter of recommendation: "Teacher Xu, I've long heard of your reputation at Hongxing Primary School. It's a blessing for the children to learn from you." He pointed to the easternmost classroom, "The third-grade students are very lively; please bear with them."

Xu Xiuli took a deep breath and pushed open the classroom door. More than thirty children turned around in unison, their little faces full of curiosity. A little girl with pigtails in the front row suddenly stood up and called out in a clear voice, "Hello, teacher! My name is Wang Xiaoya, and my dad is a communications soldier!" This made the whole class laugh, and Xu Xiuli's nervousness dissipated considerably. She smiled and returned the greeting, "Hello, students, my name is Xu Xiuli, and I will be your Chinese teacher from now on."

The first lesson was about "Spring is Coming." She turned sentences from the textbook into a nursery rhyme, sang it with the children, and drew a simple picture of forsythia on the blackboard. When the bell rang, the children surrounded her, asking all sorts of questions. Some said, "Teacher, your drawing is even prettier than the art teacher's," while others gave her a crumpled piece of candy, saying they had "saved it up for the New Year." Xu Xiuli touched the children's little hands, red from the cold, and felt a warmth in her heart—the children here mostly had parents who were soldiers or employees in the military, and they possessed a simple, clever spirit, much like the apprentices in the martial arts school back in the day who were eager to learn to read.

As school let out in the evening, He Yuyang was already waiting under the poplar tree, carrying a cloth bag containing brown sugar cakes he had retrieved from the Spirit Spring Space. He hadn't worked overtime that day; the operations department had just cracked a spy infiltration case that morning—a man disguised as a cook had attempted to poison the water tank in the officers' canteen, but He Yuyang had detected it beforehand and followed the clues to uncover a contact point hidden in the suburbs. He hadn't told Xu Xiuli the details, only saying he'd "taken care of some miscellaneous tasks," not wanting her to worry.

"You must be exhausted on your first day at work?" He took the lesson plan from Xu Xiuli's hand and casually tidied her bangs that had been ruffled by the wind.

"I'm not tired, the children are so well-behaved." Xu Xiuli's eyes sparkled as she pulled a paper boat from her bag. "This was a gift from Wang Xiaoya. She said her father brought it from Jiangnan, and it floats on water."

The two walked home side by side, their shadows stretched long by the setting sun. In the courtyard, the spinach He Yuyang had planted in spring had sprouted green shoots, and the chives had also grown new leaves. In the chicken coop in the corner, two old hens were clucking, presumably having laid eggs. Xu Xiuli put down her lesson plan and went to feed the chickens, while He Yuyang went into the kitchen to pour spiritual spring water into the vat—he would secretly add some of his spiritual spring water to the vat every morning or late at night. This water was not only sweet, but long-term consumption could also regulate the body. He had long planned to make Xu Xiuli's body stronger to prepare her for future childbearing.

Dinner was millet porridge with brown sugar cake. Xu Xiuli sipped her porridge, then suddenly seemed to remember something: "Oh right, I heard from a colleague today that the military recently arrested a spy?"

He Yuyang paused, his hand holding the chopsticks pausing, and mumbled, "Yeah, a minor character, already dealt with."

"Then you'd better be careful." Xu Xiuli put down her bowl, her eyes full of worry. "You always say that the work of the operations department is just organizing documents, but I know it's definitely not that simple." She heard military families chatting in elementary school, saying that spies are everywhere, some would disguise themselves as peddlers, and some even infiltrated government agencies.

He Yuyang felt a warmth in his heart and grasped her hand: "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'm a veteran of the battlefield; this little thing won't stump me." What he didn't say was that the Spirit Spring Space not only contained supplies but also reconnaissance equipment and combat skills rewarded by the daily check-in system. Not to mention lurking spies, even the most cunning fox couldn't escape his eyes. A while ago, he even used the advantage of the fast time flow in the space to simulate the capture plan more than ten times in the villa, ensuring absolute success.

Life was like the well water in the courtyard, plain yet sweet. He Yuyang remained busy, often working overtime until late at night. When she returned, she would always see a kerosene lamp lit in the east wing, and the hot tea brewed with spring water was still warm in the enamel cup on the table. Xu Xiuli taught the children to recognize characters and sing songs. On weekends, she would bring the naughty students home and have He Yuyang tell them stories from the battlefield—of course, they were all thrilling but not bloody, such as "how to find your way in the snow" and "how to fill your stomach with wild vegetables," which the children listened to with wide eyes.

One weekend in April, the two rode their bicycles to the countryside for a spring outing. The dandelions by the roadside were in full bloom. Xu Xiuli picked a flower and blew it away, the white fluff landing on He Yuyang's military uniform. He suddenly stopped his bicycle, took out a small cloth bag from his pocket, inside was a ring made from a bullet casing, its edges polished smooth and rounded.

"This is..." Xu Xiuli was stunned.

"When I caught the spy last time, I found a useless bullet casing and thought I'd make you something." He Yuyang scratched his head a little embarrassedly and slipped the ring onto her index finger. "It's not as valuable as a gold ring, but I made it myself."

Xu Xiuli's tears suddenly fell, not from grievance, but from an overwhelming sense of contentment. She remembered when she was little, her father made a wooden hairpin for her mother, which her mother wore her whole life; now He Yuyang made her a ring from a bullet casing, the rough metal against her skin, yet it brought her more peace of mind than any gold jewelry.

"I like it." She sniffed and buried her face in his chest. "I like it even more than Sanjin."

He Yuyang held her in his arms, inhaling the scent of soap in her hair, his heart feeling as soft and sweet as if it had been bathed in a spring of spiritual water. He knew that this life with the army would not be filled with earth-shattering legends, only the mundane details of daily life, but it was precisely these mundane details that pieced together the happiness he cherished most since his transmigration—his mother no longer had to worry about making a living, his younger brother had a stable skill, and he had someone by his side who was willing to wait for him to come home.

One late summer night, He Yuyang was summoned by an urgent call from the operations department. Xu Xiuli stood at the door, wearing a coat, watching his figure disappear into the alley, her heart heavy. She went back inside, turned up the kerosene lamp, added some spiritual spring water to her enamel cup, and sat down at the table to flip through her lesson plans, but couldn't concentrate on a single word. The cicadas chirped incessantly outside the window, and she remembered He Yuyang saying that spies preferred to operate in such noisy nights.

Just as dawn was breaking, the courtyard gate creaked open. He Yuyang walked in, looking exhausted, his uniform stained with mud, and a faint scratch near his eye. "You're back," he said, his voice hoarse but with a smile. "It's nothing. I caught a guy trying to stuff intelligence into the radio; it took me two miles to catch him."

Xu Xiuli quickly pulled him down to sit and found a first-aid kit to treat his wound. When the alcohol swab touched his skin, He Yuyang winced in pain, but her eyes welled up with tears: "Don't chase after him so hastily next time, what if you get hurt..."

"Don't worry, I'm fast." He Yuyang held her hand, his fingertips stroking the bullet casing ring. "Have you forgotten? I've practiced lightness skills." The martial arts manuals he signed in after transmigrating weren't for nothing. Let alone two miles, he could catch up even ten miles away.

After that day, Xu Xiuli would put an extra boiled egg in He Yuyang's lunchbox every day, and she would change the tea leaves brewed with spiritual spring water more frequently. She didn't say anything, but He Yuyang understood—she was protecting him, "the man who ran back from the battlefield," in her own way.

At the Autumn Equinox, the school organized military dependents to work on a farm, picking cotton. Xu Xiuli went with them and returned with a cloth bag filled with the fresh cotton she and the children had picked, white and fluffy like clouds in the sky. "The principal said that this cotton can be made into new quilts, which will keep you warm in winter." She spread the cotton out in the yard to dry, while He Yuyang squatted beside her turning the soil, preparing to plant some radishes and cabbages.

"After we harvest the cabbages, I'll make you some pickled cabbage," Xu Xiuli said with a smile. "My mother taught me how; it's sour, crisp, and refreshing—perfect with porridge."

"Okay, add some more chili peppers and eat it with steamed buns." He Yuyang straightened up and looked at her profile, which was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Suddenly, he felt that this was what a peaceful life was all about—you were drying cotton, I was turning over the soil, there were roosters crowing in the distance, there was hot porridge in the pot, and the person next to me was you.

The evening glow bathed the courtyard. Xu Xiuli brought the dried cotton inside, while He Yuyang went to the chicken coop to collect two eggs. The clear spring water in the water vat reflected their busy figures. The lights in the operations department might stay on until late at night, and the lurking spies might still be watching from the shadows, but as long as He Yuyang returned to this courtyard and saw the light left on for him, he felt that all the running around and exhaustion was worth it.

"What do you want to eat tonight?" Xu Xiuli asked, putting on an apron and standing in front of the stove.

"You did everything well." He Yuyang leaned against the door frame, watching her back, feeling very at ease.

Smoke curled from the chimney, mingling with the aroma of food, drifting out of the courtyard and into the depths of the alley. In the distance, the sound of a military bugle call drifted up, long and resolute, as if gently keeping time for these ordinary yet peaceful days.